


Free Animal

by FrazzledSquidz



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Anniversary, Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Clothed Sex, Clothing Kink, Come Shot, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Riding, Sweet/Hot, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrazzledSquidz/pseuds/FrazzledSquidz
Summary: The skirt (because that’s what it was) honestly looked like a quilt that some grandmother with vague sewing aspirations had hastily put together for the sudden announcement of a grandchild of indeterminate gender. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would actually buy and wear it but for some reason, on David, it made him feel weak in the knees.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 198





	Free Animal

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am -WEAK- for men in skirts. 
> 
> Based on this picture minus the pants: https://www.out.com/sites/out.com/files/2019/09/11/190804_out_dan_levy_08_006-final.jpg

“I’m home…” The second part of Patrick’s greeting fled with the last of his working brain cells at the sight of his husband coming into the living room. 

“Oh hey,” David murmured with deliberate casualness, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe of the hall. He was smirking openly, and he deserved to be. 

Years ago, before they were married, in what felt like a different lifetime, David had taken a brief trip to New York to see about sponsoring some old artists he loved in Rose Apothecary as a way of showcasing their work and broadening the store’s scope. Patrick had stayed behind because someone had to watch the actual store and because David was only going to be gone for a few days. 

He had returned victorious in terms of art pieces, future showings, and a few new bits of wardrobe gifted to him from clients of his past. One of which had been what he is wearing on this day: an oversized blue sweater, a rag-tag skirt that fell to his shins, and black boots that covered up the rest of his legs. 

When he had first flourished into the store in that outfit the only thing Patrick could think of beyond his dizzying joy that David had _come back_ was that he desperately needed to suck David off while wearing that skirt. 

“Honey, I’m home,” David had teased, stepping into his store like he was entering a spotlight. 

Patrick had grinned at him as he rounded the counter and they met in the middle of the store to kiss and hug tightly. David had texted him when he’d left New York, when he’d landed, when his parents (as an excuse to spend a weekend in a big city) had picked him up, as he’d gotten closer and closer to home and to Patrick, but the actual reality of him standing in Rose Apothecary and in Patrick’s arms indescribable. 

“Is this an actual skirt or one of those fake skirts you like to wear?” he’d asked, resting his hands on David’s hips and stepping back a little to take in the outfit completely. 

David had raised an eyebrow at him. “It is a kilt, thank you very much, and it’s an original from Polo Ralph Lauren. Gifted, obviously.”

Patrick had hummed noncommittally. The skirt (because that’s what it was) honestly looked like a quilt that some grandmother with vague sewing aspirations had hastily put together for the sudden announcement of a grandchild of indeterminate gender. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would actually buy and wear it but for some reason, on David, it made him feel weak in the knees. 

“Do you like it?” David had prompted, swaying a little.

Patrick had looked up at him, wondering if his pupils were as dilated as they felt. There was a large swath of yellow fabric over David’s blue sweater, of which he had brought his hands up to finger the hem. “It’s alright.”

David had smirked at him and Patrick knew he had been found out. At that moment someone had stepped up to the register so he’d hastily kissed David’s lips again and then murmured in his ear, “I think something in the back stockroom needs your attention,” before breaking off to ring up the customer. 

Patrick had focused on the person in front of him, even as David had trailed his hand across his broad shoulders as he’d stepped behind him into the back. He'd known that if he looked at David again he would have given everything away. Instead he’d taken a deep breath and focused on helping the remaining customers make expedient purchases before locking the door behind them and flipping the sign to close the store. 

David had been leaning against the far wall, face twisted up in ill-hidden delight, as Patrick strode over to him and kissed him hotly. He’d felt David’s hands alight on his shoulders as his own grabbed David’s hips, feeling the thick fabric of the skirt beneath his palms. He’d twisted his hands, guiding the skirt up. 

“I’m not complaining,” David had remarked, panting, “but I honestly didn’t expect this reaction.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Patrick had confessed roughly, briefly kissing him again. “All I know is that I need to suck you off right now.” He’d dropped to his knees.

“Far be it from me to dissuade you,” David had muttered breathily above him, his large hands gently cupping the back of Patrick’s head and running through his short hair. 

Patrick had felt like he was burning from the inside out as he’d nuzzled David’s cock through the patchwork skirt, his hands slipping up underneath it to run up his hairy legs. Normally he liked to tease, but on this occasion Patrick had simply tucked his head underneath the generous fabric, pulled down David’s briefs just enough for his cock to pop out, and sank to task. 

“ _Oh,_ ” he’d heard David whimper above him, spreading his thighs wider and shifting his hips. Patrick couldn’t help but imagine how this might look to an outsider: David gorgeously getting sucked off in the back of his store, his torso draped in that blue sweater and his partner largely hidden under the lengthy skirt. It was fucking _hot_. 

Patrick had moaned desperately, sucking David off with ruthless efficiency. He’d felt David’s hands on the back of his head through the fabric and couldn’t help but helplessly rub his palms and scratch his nails along David’s thick and trembling thighs. Small cries had been ringing above him, gradually getting louder as David got closer and Patrick didn’t slow down or let up in the slightest. 

It had been hot and dark underneath the skirt and Patrick had been drooling and sweating and his jaw was aching and he had wanted to stay right there, in that moment, forever. 

“Fucking- _Patrick,_ ” David had finally gasped, hips minutely thrusting a few times before he was spilling hotly down Patrick’s throat, largely failing to bite back his strangled moan. 

Patrick had made sure to get every last drop David had to offer before retreating, pulling David’s briefs back up, and emerging, panting and wild-eyed, back to fresh air. He wasn’t sure how he’d looked (probably wide-eyed and flushed with his cock tenting his khakis and his hair a wild mess) but David had quickly dropped to his knees to join him, shoved him back to lay on the floor, and returned the favor. 

It was hard to rank orgasms with David Rose, but that had definitely cracked the Top Ten. 

Ever since then that same outfit made fleeting appearances, usually to celebrate something. The combined effect of the clothes themselves and the fact that Patrick came like a damn freight train every time he saw them wound up meaning that even a teased mention of it would get him instantly hard. 

And now here David was, smug in front of him in that exact ensemble, beckoning Patrick with his dark eyes and a challenging eyebrow. 

“Is it my birthday again?” Patrick wondered aloud, dropping his bag and crossing the room to loop his arms around David and kiss him deeply. 

“Not quite,” David replied, smiling against his lips. “Don’t you remember what day this is?”

Of course Patrick knew. It was the anniversary of when he’d proposed to David, up on that mountain top, five years ago. “Hmm I don’t think so,” he responded, kissing him again. 

David slipped his tongue inside Patrick’s mouth, cupping his head and pressing their bodies together. Patrick ran his hands up underneath the baggy blue sweater, cupping David’s jutting shoulder blades, before bringing them around to his chest and pressing him against the wall firmly. They made out deeply, panting against each other’s mouths, as Patrick pawed at David’s hairy pecs and stomach and David hurriedly stripped Patrick of his button-down. 

They parted so Patrick could take off his white undershirt and David teasingly lifted the hem of his sweater. “Should I take this off?”

“Maybe just-” Patrick rucked it up to David’s chest, just enough so he could bend down and bite at his nipples, making David gasp and squirm against the wall. He lightly scratched at David’s flanks and hips, wishing he could somehow crawl inside of his gorgeous husband. 

“Jesus,” David gasped after several long minutes of gentle chewing, shoving Patrick back. “Fuck.” He brought his own hand up to rub at one of his red and swollen nipples, twitching at the sensation. “Get on the couch, Patrick.”

Licking his lips and feeling lust-stupid, he obeyed. He relaxed back into the couch they had bought for their house a couple of years ago, slouching down and keeping his legs spread so David could either step between them or straddle them. 

David wound up doing both, stepping into his space before clambering on top of him to draw their lips together again. Patrick’s breath shuddered out of him as David opened up the fly of his pants and drew out his cock. He could feel the cool metal of his wedding bands against the long, hard heat of him and god it just made him leak even more. 

Patrick found David’s knees on either side of his hips and pushed his hands up underneath that skirt, the coarse hair on his thighs rasping against his palms. His fingers found the smooth fabric of David’s briefs and started roaming, slipping up underneath them, out and around to his ass, forward and cupping him through the fabric- he couldn’t get enough. 

David’s free hand was cupping Patrick’s jaw as his other pumped him steadily, keeping his head tilted up as they panted and whimpered into each other’s mouths. Patrick kept his left hand around David’s ass and brought his right up between his legs, brushing against his perineum through his briefs, making David gasp and his hips stutter forward desperately. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, drawing his face away even as he kept up the sinful roll of his hips. “I- I have one more surprise for you.”

Patrick hissed in a breath before biting at David’s stubbled jaw- not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to sting. He rubbed between David’s legs one more time, a little harder, just to hear him groan raggedly and buck forward, before he drew back a little. “What?” he panted, incendiary with the need to know. 

David kissed him searingly even as he withdrew his hands from Patrick’s pants and pushed himself to his feet. “Stay,” he whispered, raising his eyebrows when Patrick gave him a pitiful look. 

He felt momentarily ridiculous, sprawled out on their couch in the early evening with his cock jutting up out of his pants. But the dark pools of David’s eyes and the way he caught his lower lip between his teeth reassured Patrick, smoothed over any anxieties that might have bubbled up as the space between them increased. 

David moved fluidly, bringing up his left leg and unzipping the length of his black boot and pushing it off his foot before repeating the motion with the right. They hit the ground with heavy thumps, one after the other. Then David was slowly, way too slowly, drawing up that skirt and slipping his hands beneath it. He found his briefs and pushed them down, letting the damp black fabric join the boots on the floor. 

Then he was spreading the skirt with either hand and climbing back up to straddle Patrick’s lap, settling the fabric around them grandly. Patrick automatically lifted his hands to David’s hips, fully relaxing back onto the couch now that his husband was back on top of him. David cupped his face and drew him into a deep kiss before he trailed his lips to Patrick’s ear and hotly murmured, “I opened myself up for you.”

Patrick felt like his stomach had bottomed out. Breathing raggedly, he pushed his hands back up underneath David’s skirt and around his ass. David lifted his hips and spread his thighs a little wider, allowing Patrick’s fingers easy access to feel the flared base of the plug nestled comfortably inside him. 

“Jesus, David,” he groaned, letting his head drop back onto the couch as his hips twitch uncontrollably. “God you’re so hot.”

David, looking remarkably pleased at the compliment, reached over underneath a nearby pillow and withdrew their travel bottle of lube, waving it in front of him teasingly. “Well?”

Patrick couldn’t help but whimper a little. He grasped the end of the plug and gently started to pull it out, making David gasp and his dark lashes flutter against his cheeks. He dropped both hands to Patrick’s shoulders and shifted up on his knees a little more, giving him plenty of space to work with. 

David made a choked-off noise when the plug was, Patrick figured, about halfway out. Briefly he ran his first two fingers down the available length to confirm that it was the wavy one they both preferred before gently pushing it back it, going light-headed at the way David shuddered. 

Patrick set up a steady rhythm, losing his mind every time he thrust the plug into David and his husband gasped or moaned in response and tried to shove his hips back to get more, harder, faster. “Patrick,” he whined, burying his face in Patrick’s neck and mouthing blindly at the skin by his mouth. 

“Yeah?” he gasped, almost feeling like he was going blind from lust. “You ready?”

“ _Yes,_ ” David moaned deeply, making a wounded noise as Patrick withdrew the plug completely and let it drop to the floor. 

Patrick took the lube from David and slicked up his cock, careful to hold the skirt up and away from the mess as he did so. David leaned back, eyes fluttering closed as he guided Patrick inside of him, both men sighing at the connection. Patrick returned his hands underneath David’s skirt to rest against the bare skin of his ass, right where it met his thighs, while David’s hands alighted on their favored spot on Patrick’s broad shoulders. 

“God I love you,” Patrick gasped, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with it all. 

David rolled his head around and grinned down at him, wide open and honest and painfully gorgeous. “I love you, too.” He leaned forward and kissed him briefly. “Now… please fuck me.” 

A small laugh escaped Patrick and he shifted, drawing a moan out of David. They started to move together, a well-practiced machine, even if it had been awhile since they’d fucked on the couch. Patrick felt David’s thighs flex beneath his hands as he pumped his hips, meeting David’s backwards push. Their skin slapped together wetly as their breathing grew labored, David’s shoulders twisting in pleasure. 

Moaning loudly, David took his hands from Patrick’s shoulders and reached up underneath his sweater, roughly palming his sensitive nipples and showing Patrick his abs, flexing from his exertion beneath a patch of black hair. Gasping, Patrick started thrusting faster, gripping David’s hips hard enough to bruise, surrounded by multi-colored fabric. 

After another couple of minutes he came explosively, feeling like he was being turned inside out, weakly pumping his hips as he ejaculated forever, everything he had inside of his body. Panting harshly, he pulled out of his husband, ignoring his whine of protest. “On your back, David.”

Looking wild, David did as he was told, flopping himself dramatically on the couch and reaching out for Patrick. Patrick lifted his hips long enough to shove his pants the rest of the way off, then clambered up to his knees between David’s thighs. He threw David’s right leg over his shoulder, causing the skirt to pool around his hips, and pushed three thick fingers into David, making him cry out loudly and arch his back. 

“Fuck- _shit-_ ” he cried out, throwing his head back as Patrick set up a ruthless pace, striking David’s prostate with every rapid thrust of his fingers. David slung his arms up, gripping the arm of the couch with white knuckles. 

“God I fucking love you,” Patrick panted, his own hips twitching even though he would probably never be able to come again in his life. “Do you have any idea how hot and sweet and caring and brilliant and-”

“Oh fuck,” David gasped, edging on a sob, starting to thrash as he got closer and closer to orgasm. Patrick smoothed his free hand up David’s chest, under that sweater, to roughly thumb his nipple, and that was it- David was shouting out and bucking wildly as he came in long, fitful ropes between them. 

Patrick gently pulled out and slumped against the couch as David collapsed bonelessly, both of them panting like they had been about to drown. 

After a few long minutes of catching their breaths, and Patrick trying to reboot his brain, David suddenly gasped and sat up. “Did you seriously make me cum on a Polo Ralph Lauren kilt?!”

Patrick blinked at him, struggling with the brain portion of his endeavors. “Uh. Sorry?”

Looking unimpressed David sat up, pulling his legs from around Patrick, and hurried into the kitchen. After a moment, blinking lazily, Patrick stood up to follow him. He pulled his pants back up, though left them unbuttoned, and fetched David’s briefs from the floor. 

Sure enough, David was naked from the waist-down in their kitchen, pouring a small amount of Rose Apothecary detergent into the sink as it gushed water over the skirt, slowly filling up. Patrick stepped up behind him, dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “Sorry about your skirt. Here’s your underwear.”

David rolled his eyes, but it seemed fond. “It’s a kilt. And thank you.” Even though they were damp, he slipped his black briefs back on so he wasn’t bare-assed in the kitchen. 

Patrick found himself charmed by the sight of his husband post-orgasm in nothing but a baggy sweater and his underwear. He reached out to gently cup one of David’s hips, even as he reached over him into the cupboard for a glass. “Is that hot water?” 

“Coming out of the sink?” David felt the need to clarify, eyebrows raising. “You can’t pour hot water over a cum stain or it just gets worse!” 

Patrick chose not to comment, instead sticking his glass underneath the running water to fill it and promptly drink it all. He filled it up a second time for David, who took smaller sips but still managed to drink the entire thing in short order. He handed it back to Patrick, who filled up the glass a final time and shut off the water, since the skirt was fully submerged. “So you just need to soak it?” he asked, taking a more moderate drink. 

David reached up and took it, rings clinking against the glass. “Yes. And scrub it. And then air dry it. And then probably take it to get dry-cleaned.” 

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, though he definitely wasn’t. Well, not about making David cum his brains out anyway. 

“No you’re not,” he smirked. 

Patrick grinned back, kissing him briefly. “Happy anniversary, David.” 

“Happy anniversary, Patrick.”


End file.
